


Make Me

by DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Facebook: The Fairest of the Rare, Fairest of the Rare's Sing Me A Rare 2019, Fluff and Angst, Heartbreak, Makeup, Songfic, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 15:55:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20659826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns/pseuds/DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns
Summary: What more can be said about the decisions you make due to the actions of those you love?





	Make Me

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sing Me a Rare: The Soundtracks. Song Prompt - This Way, Khalid & H.E.R. - Superfly
> 
> Events may appear out of order due to the arrangement of the song lyrics.

_ Late Friday night... _

Oliver laid in bed, his eyes staring at the unmoving ceiling above him. He had a hand resting on his bare stomach as the other was settled behind his head. The feeling that churned in his chest was not at all pleasant, and he wished it would go away. 

Unfortunately, Oliver was aware that it wouldn’t; he knew it was permanently etched in his bones because of his actions. 

No.  _ Her  _ actions. 

This was her fault. He wouldn’t feel like this if it weren’t for her. She was the catalyst of his conflicted emotions, and Oliver was positive she didn’t feel an ounce of guilt. He’d done his best as a fiance and was repaid with disrespect and heartbreak. 

How dare she do what she did and think it was okay? Lavender always went about demanding respect, but where was his? It wasn’t like he’d done anything wrong as she insinuated he had. 

Oliver scoffed out loud, turning on his side when he heard a knock at the front door. It wouldn’t be Lavender back so soon, so he knew immediately that it would be something...someone that would show his rightful respect. 

* * *

_ Three hours ago… _

“You’re kidding me right now,” Oliver said, running his palm over his face slowly. “Please tell me you’re bloody  _ kidding me _ !”

Lavender Brown, the fierce woman meant to be his lovely fiancé, stood proud and defensive with one hand on her hip and the other hand gripping tightly on a baseball bat. Her blonde, wavy hair was sticking slightly to her body as if she had been sweating from a workout. 

That workout happened to be his pride and joy of achievements.

“Don’t act like you didn’t deserve it,” she hissed, her cheeks flushing quickly with anger. “Treating me as you have!”

Oliver looked incredulously. “How have I been treating you any differently than I usually do?”

Lavender twisted the bat, and Oliver instinctively twisted his body so he could dodge any attacks. 

“I’m supposed to be your fiancé, Oliver, and you’ve been treating me like some assistant or buddy you sleep with so you’re not alone at night,” Lavender replied. “You have another woman’s name in your phone, and instead of deleting it, you say if I were around more. How can I be around more when  _ you’re  _ hardly around!”

Oliver placed a hand on his chest defiantly. “I’m a football star, Lav! That’s my work, my livelihood, and you basically obliterated every piece of memorabilia to signify that! I can’t help what you can or won’t do with that!”

Lavender snorted harshly. “I’m happy to know how much I mean to you when it comes to your precious time on the damn field.” She gripped the dazzling object her left-hand ring finger. "Oh, and you’re wrong. There’s one piece of memorabilia that hasn’t been destroyed yet, you arsehole. And you can do it yourself.”

_ ooo...ooo...ooo _

Oliver watched the car pull out of the driveway, the headlights fading away by the second. He clenched and unclenched his empty hand as he felt his anger begin to simmer down. His shoulders squared as he stared at the empty space that was once occupied by the woman he set out to marry and the car he’d bought for her. 

Her engagement ring felt like lead in his grasp, and it took everything within him to refrain from tossing it in the closest drain and pretending it never existed. 

Except it wasn’t that easy for Oliver. Not only was the expense too high to waste, but the sentimental value was too pure to be rid of. This couldn’t be the end of things, could it? Sure, he had said some things to rile her up, but he didn’t deserve what she had done to his awards. She didn’t have to leave like she had either. 

Not wanting to dwell on it any further, Oliver pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts. His thumb hovered over Lavender’s name for a second longer than he intended, but he scrolled back to the top for the number he’d saved a few days ago. Soon afterward, Oliver raised the phone to his ear. 

“Hello? Audrey? It’s Oliver. Fancy a nightcap?” 

* * *

_ Earlier that day... _

Lavender stormed inside the football training facility, her face twisted in anger. Moments before, she’d arrived in their home, setting food on the counter to prepare dinner for Oliver’s return from practice, when she found a small note folded in the edge of the trash can. It was barely hidden as if it were begging Lavender to see it. 

_ Keep the number, Ollie. Next time dinner is on me. _

_ xoxo _

Lavender shredded the paper to smithereens as questions flooded her thoughts.  _ Who  _ was this?  _ What  _ dinner? Why was this in  _ their  _ trash? _ How dare he lie to her like this _ ? 

She demanded answers, so she grabbed her keys with the plan in mind to retrieve the necessary answers to these bombarding questions. 

Thus bringing the blonde to this moment. She spotted Oliver in the center of his teammates heading in  _ her  _ direction, which suited her just fine. 

“Oliver Wood!” she shouted, catching the men’s attention. Oliver stared at her quizzically with those soulful, dark brown eyes of his; but Lavender would not be swayed by his feigned innocence this time. She’d have proof if she didn’t rip it to bits. “Who are you having dinner with that you’ve kept their number?” 

The man in question glanced at his guys then returned his gaze back to Lavender. She watched the clench of his jaw, and she knew he wasn’t happy. She was interrupting his ‘game time’ and trying to show him up in front of his mates. Frankly, Lavender didn’t give a damn. She wanted answers. 

“You’re getting worked up over nothing, sweetheart,” Oliver said. “Head on home, all right? We’ll discuss this later.” 

Lavender shook her head. “No, we’re not brushing this off like you always do. You’re going to explain this right now.” 

“I’m offering a chance for you to calm down so we can discuss your concerns calmly, Lav,” he said. “That’s it. Please?” 

Her nostrils flared. He was going to play the ‘she’s aggressive and he just takes it’ card like he does with his Mum. The son of a bitch!

“No,” Lavender replied, her hands beginning to clench and unclench. “The option to have a calm conversation was thrown away in the trash like the note you failed to hide.” 

She saw his eyes flicker slightly, and that’s when the blonde knew she had him in a corner. He would have to explain and apologize properly, yes? Surely he knew that this was the best option to make. 

Oliver folded his arms, a brow raised in a challenging manner. He was going to play macho in front of him teammates, eh? Lavender felt the rage built up ready to blow. 

“Perhaps if you were around more, Lav,” Oliver said, “there wouldn’t have been time for another woman to–” 

A sharp slap resonated throughout the training room walkway, and the group of men was silent as Lavender gave Oliver one final glare before she spun on her heel and stalked out of the facility. The last thing she expected to hear was apologies from her fiance. Instead, she heard something from him that cemented her next plan of action. 

“See, mate?” 

The audacity! ‘See’? Oh, he’ll see. Lavender was embarrassed for the last time. 

* * *

_ Two hours later... _

Lavender’s eyes were narrowed and reddened, and tear stains painted her cheeks. She moved as swiftly and calmly as she could in the home, a baseball bat scraping the ground behind her as she dragged it from the handle. 

He wanted to blame her, did he? He wanted her to appear like the bad guy in this scenario? He was going to see what it meant for Lavender to be the bad guy. 

Her heels clicked on the tile as she moved like a woman on a mission. Lavender wanted to hate Oliver with every fiber of her being; instead, she wanted to cry in his arms for reassurance that they could make it work. 

Those kinds of thoughts made her nearly hate herself; Lavender Brown was meant to be a name of awe and worship. She was a queen, but she didn’t act like it. This was  _ his  _ doing. He made her feel these things about life and herself. Oliver needed to recognize his wrongs one way or another. 

She soon arrived to the corridor that held his trophies and displays of accomplishments, swinging the bat around to slap in the palm of her hand. She continued the motion as she slowly approached the things Oliver held more dear than their relationship. 

With a battle cry fit for an Amazon, Lavender wound the wooden object behind her and swung. The smashing sound in her ears and shattered glass on the floor was satisfying to the blonde. It fueled her raging adrenaline to continue and she swung again. 

And again. 

And again. 

Lavender didn’t stop until there was nothing left in the corridor to smash. She set the bat on the floor, leaning forward to catch her breath as she admired her handiwork. Every inch of gold material and ego-inducing nameplate was scattered across the floor, and Lavender couldn’t be happier. Let him see the savagery she was capable of; it was just like the ravaging he’d done to her heart.

Yet there was still a shred of her heart beating in her chest that loved this man and wanted to fight. It wasn’t like her to be so aggressive and destructive, yet here she was. It was his fault.  _ He  _ made her this way. 

Lavender stepped over the shattered glass–careful not to ruin the material of her heels–and made her way out of the house that she should consider home. It wasn’t her home. It was a constant reminder that she scarred far beyond her face. 

There was a scar on her heart that would never go away thanks to Oliver Wood. 

Speak of the Devil, a flash of light through the window indicated that a car was pulling into the driveway. She gripped the handle firmly as she heard a car door shut and the jingle of keys. Showtime. 

* * *

_ Saturday afternoon... _

Lavender took a deep breath as she stared at the door she once walked through without a hitch. She wanted that back. She wanted him back. Having spent most of her morning talking to herself about what to do at this exact moment, Lavender reassured herself that she could do this. 

She gave the door a quick, firm knock or two before taking a step back to await his arrival to the door. 

Oliver was there, but he wasn’t alone. He was standing in the doorway in a pair of his jogging pants and nothing else while a woman with auburn waves was behind him in a robe; Lavender didn’t want to confirm whether she wore clothes underneath. In fact, the image of another woman standing behind what was meant to be Lavender’s made her begin to see red. 

“Lavender?” he said, rubbing his neck in a sleepy motion. “What are you doing here?” 

She couldn’t decipher his tone through his words, so she cleared her throat. “I wanted to talk, Oliver. I don’t…” Lavender took another deep breath and released it. “I don’t want our last words to be our last words.” 

The little bitch no one asked to talk decided that it was her moment to speak. “Ollie is busy at the moment, so you should run along and go cry about what you’ve lost.” 

_ Who did she think she’s talking to? _ “Listen here, you cheap bent tart, if you do eject yourself out of this conversation–” Lavender started to say, her body language shifting so she’d be ready to charge at a moment’s notice, but Oliver placed a hand on her shoulder to prevent her from doing anything. 

“Audrey,” Oliver said, turning to the woman sharply. “Give us a moment, yeah?” 

Lavender lifted her chin defiantly as the rusty-haired wench marched off inside with a huff. She was lucky Lavender didn’t really want to ruin her ensemble, or she’d be feeling a stiletto heel to the face. With that thought in mind, Lavender faced Oliver, who was running a hand through his hair as he shut the front door and leaned against it. 

“I didn’t sleep with her,” he said, and the look on his face told Lavender his confession was earnest. Why couldn’t he simply do this before? “I thought about it...but I couldn’t hurt you more than I already had.” 

Lavender quirked a brow, but she remained silent and gestured for him to continue. Oliver deserved to grovel for a little while. 

“I wasn’t thinking when she invited me out for dinner. We’d just had a successful practice, and she appeared from nowhere!” he exclaimed. “You weren’t making things easy back home and…”

No, no, no. Oliver was _not_ flipping the tables on her. 

“Shut it right there, Oliver,” Lavender said. “This is on you, not me. I left because you hurt me. It’s not as if I went and sought out another man in your absence. I supported you, and I received nothing in return but an overwhelming sense of uselessness.” 

Oliver raised a single finger as if he was going to argue with her, but Lavender held a hand. 

“Save it if you’re going to try and justify your actions more,” she told him with a shake of her head and soft scoff in disbelief. “I don’t know why I thought coming here would make things different. You’re never going to change.” 

She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, but she refused to let Oliver see them. As Lavender turned her back to him, he grasped her wrist and pulled her into an embrace. His hands cupped her cheeks before she had time to say anything, and he brought his lips down to hers. 

At first, Lavender didn’t want to respond, but her bleeding heart won out and made her return the kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck so she could press her body closer, and he maneuvered one of his hands from her face to her left hand. The blonde felt the cool touch of her engagement ring, and her heart soared with relief and happiness.

“I’m sorry,” Oliver murmured with his lips on hers. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” 

His fingers drifted absentmindedly on her side, and she met his eyes. Their love was destructive, far from perfect, yet they couldn’t leave one another alone. 

They couldn’t lie to themselves either; this moment was tranquil and hopeful. However, while they seemed fine at the moment, one thing passed through both of their minds. 

How long would it last? 


End file.
